It's The Thought That Counts, Isn't It?
by silverducks
Summary: Mary tries to impress Matthew by baking him a cake on their anniversary. It doesn't quite go to plan and Matthew is left with the dilemna of whether to pretend to like it, or not! Fluffy and flirty married Mary/Matthew fic!
1. Chapter 1

_Here's a very fluffy married Mary/Matthew story, written for this drabble challenge: _

_"Mary tries to bake some treat for Matthew and mucks it up horribly but he still says it is delicious?"_

_My muse got a bit carried away, so there's several more chapters still to come. Hope you enjoy reading!_

* * *

><p>"M'Lady, are you sure you know what you're doin'?" Mrs Bird asked as she peered down in mild repulsion at the brown mass of cake batter and currants in the bowl before her. She let her gaze flicker over her mistress' apron, following the trail of flour to her face, where it was smeared across two rosy cheeks and mixed with a blob of runny dough on the nose. She deliberately didn't look around the kitchen; heaven knows how long it would take her to clean up that mess of flour and eggs and spilled fruits. Of all the days for kitchen maid Beth to have the afternoon off to visit her sick aunt!<p>

"Of course, Mrs Bird, Sybil told me about it in her last letter." Mary continued scooping out the dough, oblivious to the mess around and upon her, pushing it into the large cake tin Mrs Bird had grabbed off her moments before, muttering something about needing to grease it. Sybil had spoken with much enthusiasm about the cake she had baked for Branson, _Tom_, Mary chided herself quickly, when he had received a promotion at work. Her delight had nearly glowed from the pages and the gushing, minute detail had quite inspired Mary to try the endeavour herself. The fact that Sybil had also gone into much explanation of how pleased her husband had been at her efforts may also have helped convince Mary, though that proportion of the letter she did not divulge to her cook. And so, the idea had been simmering in Mary's mind for weeks now and today, their first anniversary and with Matthew safely out of the way at work, the opportunity was too good to miss and Mary had decided to put her plan into practice. After all, if her youngest sister Sybil could bake a cake, so could she.

"Now, how's that Mrs Bird," Mary said with a flourish, proudly holding the tin in her hands, the sticky cake batter pouring slightly over the edge as she carried it towards the oven, gracefully avoiding the slippery egg white on the kitchen floor.

"Very good, m'Lady," Mrs Bird answered, quickly opening the door and giving her mistress a steady hand to guide the cake in amongst the hot shelves. She hastily shut the door and stood up straight, her back protesting slightly. She'd worked for the Crawley's for many years now, but never had she had to work so hard since the young Mr Crawley had married a lady. Anxious to not be outdone by Mrs Patmore at the great house, she had done her uppermost to prepare only the finest meals every night for the grand lady, though this request today had quite taken her by surprise. Other than the courtesy visit, as the new lady of the house, Lady Mary simply did not visit the kitchen. So when she had appeared in the doorway after luncheon, an endearing smile upon her face and clutching a piece of crumbled paper, insisting upon baking a cake for her husband, Mrs Bird had been so taken aback she had not been able to formulate an argument against it in time. And so here she was, them both covered in flour, the kitchen surfaces and floor looking as if the great war had started again and an odd consistency of flour, dried fruits and eggs pertaining to be a cake sat in the oven. She hated to think what the resultant cake would taste like, as Lady Mary had insisted upon weighing all the ingredients herself and she had only been allowed to watch. Of course, Mrs Bird was quite sure even if she had found her wits in time, she would never have been able to dissuade the headstrong young lady from her plans. It was quite endearing really, but as Mrs Bird finally allowed her eyes to track across the white and yellow mess covering almost every surface, she knew even her patience and fondness for young love and romance had its limits.

Mary caught her cook's eye and smiled in apology. "I'm sorry, Mrs Bird, I think I've made rather a mess. I will help you clean it up."

The look of concern and mild annoyance that had been etched into the cook's face all afternoon suddenly twisted into a look of horror. She quickly pushed past her mistress, grabbing the large broom in the corner before Lady Mary got any more ideas. The chaos in her kitchen may have been the young ladies doing, but she would never let herself live to see the day her own mistress cleaned her kitchen; she did have her own pride after all. She managed to hold her tongue a moment, saying more eloquently than she felt, "You needn't trouble yourself, m'Lady, I'll have this cleaned up in a jiffy." To distract her, Mrs Bird made a point at looking at Lady Mary's dress, "May I suggest you change soon for dinner. Mr Crawley will be home soon and the cake'll take at least an hour to rise."

At this, Mary finally took in the state of her appearance, looking down at her filthy apron before reaching up to brush the sticky batter from her nose. "Yes, I think you're right." A quick look of embarrassment flashed across her face for a moment, before it was hastily replaced by her well practiced elegant and poised expression, though her hands twisting together betrayed her guilt at the mess she'd caused. Smiling down in apology at her cook, she continued, "Please do let me know when the cake is ready."

"Yes of course, m'Lady." Mrs Bird nodded in acknowledgement, though she didn't add that she had her doubts if the word cake could ever be used to describe whatever mess came out of that oven in an hour's time.

* * *

><p><em>Hope you enjoyed reading it, more chapters are on their way soon!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

It had been such a relief for Mary when her ladies maid, Anna, followed her to Crawley house and today she was even more grateful than usual. She had spied her appearance in the mirror in the hallway and the sight had been quite horrific; flour covering her dress, somehow finding its way under the apron she'd worn, sticky brown dough smeared across her face and her _hair_! That had quite turned Mary's face as white as the mess covering her; so thick with flour it had given her a startling premonition of old age and the strands, so carefully tied into a bun this morning, were flying every which direction they could find. When she'd reached up a hand to try and tame it, the white had merely smeared further and the stickiness had caused the strands to protrude even more prominently. Thank goodness Matthew had been away at work and now, as she looked in the mirror in her room, her hair was as perfectly coiffed as usual, her face clean and bright and her new embroidered sapphire blue dress gleamed in the lamp light.

"Thank you, Anna." Mary smiled at her maid as she finished adjusting her earrings, before standing up to head down to the kitchen. A wave of guilt ran through her as she approached, for she had left it in quite a state, but as she walked nearer, her nose crinkled up in alarm. Normally the smells emanating from the kitchen, something she was still not accustomed to as the kitchen had been far away in the Abbey, were mouth wateringly tasty, but today… She coughed slightly as the smell tickled her throat and reminded her somewhat of a candle burning too quickly…

"Mrs Bird?" She called, hurrying her footsteps towards the kitchen and she couldn't hide her gasp as she stepped in. The fact that every surface was literally sparkling clean now went unnoticed by her as the thick cloud of smoke billowing in the corner of the room that held the oven caught her attention. She rushed towards it, grabbing a tea towel and pulling open the oven door. The wave of choking, hot smoke that poured out forced her to step back, sweeping her hands in front of her as she began coughing, the heat causing tears to prickle in her eyes.

"M'Lady! Are you alright?" Mrs Bird asked anxiously, suddenly appearing through the smoke at Mary's side. Mary nodded as stepped back towards the oven, still waving her arms to clear the smoke. Using the tea towel, the two women carefully eased the tin out and, as they laid it down, their faces appeared above it anxiously.

Neither spoke for a moment, words failing them as they looked upon the thing in the tin. As the smoke dispersed, they could see a thick, black crust covering the cake, the surface cracked and emitting a distinct burnt odour. That was not the worst of it though, for in the middle was a large crater, the centre sinking in almost to the base of the tin.

Mary felt her heart sinking lower than the crater cake, her eyes starting to prickle with tears from more than just the smoke. She had spent near enough all afternoon preparing the cake, her face breaking into a smile whenever she thought about the look of delight on Matthew's face as she presented him with the lovingly made creation. He would smile and his eyes would shine as he thanked her by placing a warm kiss upon her cheek, before looking at her present with pride and delight, eagerly wanting to tuck into the mouth watering desert. But that image shattered in her mind as she continued to look in horror at the debacle before her. How could she present him with this cake now, on their first anniversary! And what could she give him instead? For this was to be her present to him!

"I'm so very sorry, m'Lady. I checked the cake before I went out, it was nowhere near done! I've baked so many times, m'Lady, was certain this wouldn't be ready for a good while."

The anxious, hurried apology from her cook helped clear Mary's melancholy thoughts and she forced her face into a smile. "It's not your fault, Mrs Bird. These things happen I suppose." Her smile faltered a moment, "I don't think we have time to try again though."

Mrs Bird looked anxiously at her mistress, seeing the disappointment in her eyes though she tried to hide it. She felt guilt weigh upon her, for she knew how happy Lady Mary had been at the thought of baking a cake for Mr Crawley. The burnt offering before them was far from what the young lady had in mind, though Mrs Bird thought it better not to add that the cake, to burn so quick and sink so deeply, would not have been very edible anyway. The lady was right though, there was no time to bake another and she'd decided against making a back up for fear of offending the lady. "There's still a chance it can be saved, m'Lady."

The radiant smile that suddenly rushed over her mistress' face at her words determined Mrs Bird's resolve. The cake may not be edible, but it could at least be made presentable, though they did not have much time. She quickly grabbed a knife and began easing the cake out of the tin, pleased that it did at least come out whole, before she began removing the worst of the blackened crust. With a brief look around her now immaculately clean kitchen, and audible sigh, Mrs Bird issued a few instructions to Lady Mary and tried to hope that this time her kitchen would not resemble a war zone.

* * *

><p>When the last dash of icing had been squeezed onto the cake in a finishing twirl and the strawberries dotted across the thick layer of whipped cream filling the crater, the front door was heard opening. Mr Molesley's voice soon followed, ringing through the corridors as he welcomed his master home. Mary's smile brightened as she heard her husband's laughter echoing around the walls and she looked down in delight at the masterpiece below her. The cake now looked positively splendid, covered in fancy icing, cream and strawberries, all traces of blackness hidden or cut away and the rich scent of fruit overpowering the faint traces of burning.<p>

Mrs Bird gave her a conspiratorial wink and Mary once more divested of her apron and stepped out to greet her husband. She ignored her husband's surprise to see her coming from the direction of the kitchen and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. "Happy anniversary, Matthew! I trust you had a pleasant day."


	3. Chapter 3

Matthew's suspicion was first aroused as soon as he saw Mary walking towards him from the servant's section of the house. The fact that his wife was looking even more stunning than usual in a new blue dress, he assumed it was new as he would surely remember _this_ one, would have distracted him immediately from his suspicions. Except there was _that_ glint in her eyes, _that_ mischievous crook to her smile and _that_ playful lilt within her voice. Even if they hadn't been married a whole year to this day, Matthew Crawley would still know his wife was up to something. The only thing he had to figure out now, was what.

As Mary leant towards him to kiss his cheek in greeting, he leant closer to give her a proper kiss, something he always looked forward to on his return from work. But she moved back as he moved nearer, the mischief twinkling in her eyes growing. He narrowed his own at her, but kept his voice calm as he said pleasantly, "The day was much the same as usual, my dear."

His eyes narrowed further as he stepped towards her again, trying not to frown when she moved away again. Whatever she was up to though, it would have to wait. Smiled brightly again, he whipped his right arm from behind him, which he'd carefully kept out of sight, and watched as the beautiful face of his wife broke into a huge grin as she looked at the offering before her. A dozen or more brightly coloured flowers, carefully picked out by the kind woman at the stall in Ripon market and thankfully surviving their journey home. Red and yellow carnations spilled out over elegant pale pink lilies and soft green ferns and yellow tulips complimented the white chrysanthemums dotted throughout the bouquet. But the splendour of the flowers was nothing compared to the radiance on Mary's face as she leant down and drew in a heady breath mixed with the beautiful scent of the blooms. "Happy anniversary, my darling Mary."

"Oh Matthew, they are beautiful." As she reached out to take them, he kept his own hold and used them to pull her closer. This time, when Matthew leant his face towards her, Mary did not step away and he was rewarded with a kiss, the flowers gently crushed between them. A moment later, Matthew pulled back and reached behind him once again, pulling a small stem out from beneath his coat, which had been carefully concealing the final present. He held it out to her now, a single red rose just beginning to open into bloom. Her smile widened further, but Matthew also noticed a slight glimmer of guilt crossing her face and his suspicions were further piqued. He pushed them to the back of his mind though as he gently ran the blood red rose down her pale face, tracing it over her smile. He grinned as he saw Mary shiver at the touch and reached towards her free hand, cupping the rose between them as he leant down to her once more. "I am so very pleased you like them, Mary," he whispered into her ear. "Though I think I am now expected to say something eloquent like, _but their beauty pales into insignificant in comparison to you._" He smiled at his final words, his voice playfully poetic as he pulled away just enough to see her eyes roll and her lips curl into a smirk, trying to hide her bashful smile.

"You must only say things like that, dear, if you actually mean them. And your words must actually have a trace of eloquence within them."

"Then I must take them back at once!" Matthew teased, his eyebrows raising in alarm for a moment, but before Mary had chance to retort, he suddenly captured her lips with his own.

Mary's surprise quickly silenced her and gently Matthew gripped her wrist holding the bouquet and pulled it away from them, stepping closer as he did so. He guided the flowers to the small cabinet in the hallway and released their hold. With both their hands now free, he wrapped them around Mary's waist and deepened the kiss, the rose pressing tightly against Mary's back. It was only a few moments later that Mary's own hands snaked their way around his neck, drawing him even closer so their bodies were now crushed together. Smiling into the kiss at his wife's enthusiasm, he ran his hands up her back, tracing the path the rose had taken with his fingertips across her cheek before threading them through her hair. Mary sighed at his touch, tilting her face upwards to further deepen the kiss. As Matthew's fingers carded through her hair, he suddenly felt resistance and a moment later, Mary suddenly pulled away with an audible gasp of pain.

"Are you alright?" Matthew asked worriedly, feeling the loss of her warmth as much as his guilt as she stepped back away from him. She looked more perplexed and anxious than anything else and he looked down at his hands in puzzlement, surprised to see a sticky smear of what looked distinctly like cake icing on the fingers. "Mary, what is this?" His brows rose in confusion as his earlier suspicions came back to haunt him.

They further increased as his wife shifted nervously on her feet for a moment, before her face changed into a dazzling smile and her voice brightened suspiciously, "Nothing, of course Matthew. Just something in my hair!" She reached up to pat her hair, as if that was explanation enough, before stepping further away, her smile faltering slightly.

"Mary?" Matthew stepped towards her, his eyes narrowing and his voice suspicious as he tried to close the space between them.

Mary reflected his movements by stepping away, maintaining the distance, and sweetening her smile. "Yes, dear?"

"What is it you have in your hair?"

"Nothing of course, dear. Now, these flowers had better be put in some water." She brushed past him and reached towards the bouquet, careful not to touch him and avoiding his narrowed eyes. Mary also plucked the rose from his fingers, hanging limply now from his side, before turning away. She ignored his last questioning entreaty as she headed back towards the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Dinner will be ready soon and we don't want to keep Mrs Bird waiting."

A heavy sigh escaped Matthew's lips as he watched her leave, shaking his head in resignation. He knew she was up to something alright, but it seemed he would have to wait to find out just what it was.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course, dinner was nowhere near ready, for Mrs Bird's preparations had been rather delayed by Mary's antics in the kitchen that afternoon. Mary tried to squash a flicker of guilt at the thought, but she didn't offer any meaningful explanation to Matthew's most recent question of just why dinner was so late. She knew he was already suspicious enough and she did so want to keep the cake a surprise. "I'm sure she is simply taking her time to prepare us a delicious meal to celebrate tonight."

When Matthew raised his eyebrows in disbelief, Mary offered no more, instead she just smiled at him across the table, making sure the candlelight was flickering in her eyes and playing across her smile. Just in case, she reached across the dinner table to gently take his hands in hers. Indicating the beautiful flowers that now stood elegantly in the vase between them, she said, "Thank you again for the flowers, Matthew. They are very beautiful."

The distractions seemed to work, for Matthew's face softened and he gently brushed his fingers across her palms. "I really am pleased you like them, Mary."

"Of course I do, but are you not going to try your hand again at poetry, Matthew? Perhaps comparing my porcelain face to the pale lilies or my ruby lips to the red roses?"

"Would that convince you to tell me precisely what you're up to this evening, Mary?" His voice was gentle, teasing like her own, but there was an edge of annoyance that told Mary she was treading a careful line with his patience.

She blinked in surprise, but managed to resist the urge to reach up to pat her hair, remembering all to well the evidence of icing he had found there earlier. "I don't know what you mean, darling. Are you suspicious of your wife for simply arranging a nice meal on your anniversary? For going to the trouble of preparing such an elegant dinner table?" She nodded pointedly at the candles and the finest china and glass that had been laid upon the lace table cloth. She hadn't actually set it, of course, but she had certainly directed Molesley on precisely how it should be laid.

"I'm simply curious why my wife refuses to tell me why she has icing in her hair, why my dinner is late and why she has what looks like cream on her neck."

This time Mary was unable to resist the temptation and she quickly reached one hand to the back of her neck, feeling a faint wet smear, which did look distinctly like cream when she looked at her fingers. She had been exceedingly careful in the rescuing of the cake, but it appeared she hadn't quite managed to remain completely unscathed, and there had been no time for her to check with Anna before Matthew had arrived.

Mary fixed her face with a bright smile before she looked back up at Matthew, a retort already forming itself on her tongue. "And does the state of your wife's attire bother you so much, Matthew?" She reached back across the table again to hold his hands, meeting his steely gaze with her own; her expression mischievous, her eyes challenging.

"Of course not, my dear, and as we have already established, I do not think it is wise for me to try my hand at flattering poetry, but…" Here he paused, his smile quirking into a smirk, his eyes filling with mischief as he leant across the table, closer towards her, eyes meeting her challenge. He turned her palms upwards and continued caressing them gently, fingertips causing shivers to run up her arm and the seductive lilt to his voice making the hairs on her neck tingle in anticipation. "Your attire is only one of many reasons why I suspect you are up to something, Mary."

Mary tried her best at her own seductive, coy smile, deepening her voice and also leaning closer and, judging by the shadows in Matthew's eyes, it appeared to work. "And pray tell, Matthew, just what has made you suspect me and what is it you suspect me of?"

"Oh, I don't yet know what you're planning, my dear," Matthew answered. "But I know there's something. You're not so good at hiding from me as you would like to think."

At Matthew's victorious smirk, Mary tried to pull her own hands away, his words and the meaning within them striking a chord. Matthew didn't release her hands though; his grip only grew stronger, keeping her in place. His smirk widened as he leant closer, his eyes still holding hers, darkening and growing in intensity. Mary's skin prickled hotly and she felt goosebumps rise on her arms, her heart beat increasing and her breath catching in her throat. His words, the huskiness in his voice and the desire burning in his eyes had thrown her off guard and she felt altogether too much like prey caught in the predators gaze. Even her voice betrayed her, trembling slightly as she answered, "Then I will simply have to try harder, next time."

The smirk upon Matthew's face widened playfully as he pulled her closer still and Mary unconsciously tilted her head upwards, her body shifting nearer. They were both nearly on their feet, leaning over the table, faces straining towards each other and hands still entwined. Suddenly, though, the door opened and they jumped away, startled.

"I'm sorry sir, my Lady, but dinner is now ready." Mr Molesley looked between them quickly, his face turning an interesting shade of pink. "Or shall I serve it a little later, sir."

It was far from the first time their butler had caught his master and mistress in a compromising situation, but the flustered look of embarrassment upon his face, reflected most adorably by her husband, never failed to amuse Mary.

"No, no, now is fine, Molesley," Mary answered eloquently. She was far quicker at recovering from these unexpected interruptions than her husband and had already seated herself down elegantly before he had even finished issuing his own answer to the butler. Mary watched in amusement as he then hastily sat down, grabbing his napkin that was swinging precariously towards the floor. Gone was the suave gentleman before her, his eyes and voice so intense they had quite put her under in his spell. Though that was not to say Mary was altogether recovered herself, for she could still feel the blood running hotly through her veins. But whilst Matthew had no qualms about kissing her in front of the servants on his return from work, Mary was still pleasantly amused by how quickly he became embarrassed when caught unawares. And Mary couldn't help but revoke her own revenge then and caught his eye across the table, dazzling him with a seductive smile and filling her gaze with dark promises. She had to stop her smile broadening into a grin when she saw Matthew gulp and quickly avert his eyes, instead keeping her eyes intently upon him. Her gaze held throughout most of dinner and her smirk grew as Matthew became increasingly flustered and awkward and it certainly helped her purpose of distracting him from his suspicions.

In fact, Matthew remained relatively quiet throughout most of dinner, only speaking slightly to compliment the wonderful meal and the care taken in the choices. The food, which obviously consisted of all of Matthew's favourites tonight, was mouth wateringly tasty and Mary was surprised Mrs Bird had been able to create such a feast considering the chaos Mary had brought upon her kitchen this afternoon, though this compliment Mary kept to herself.

Mary could suppose the lack of conversation at dinner was due to the absence of her mother in law, for Cousin Isobel had conveniently been invited up to the Abbey that night for an urgent discussion on her work with the refugees. Though considering the way Matthew kept glancing up at her, watching her face intently until Mary caught his eye and he suddenly looked away, suggested there was more distracting Matthew from conversation this dinner.

It was very rare for them to eat together, alone like this, and it felt delightfully intimate, romantic, with the flickering candlelight and heady scent of the flowers between them, especially on this night, their first anniversary. Considering they had been married a year now, Mary was often pleasantly surprised at how her husband could still surprise her so, how much she seemed to love and treasure him more with each passing day. And how, with much less effort than Mary would willingly admit, he still managed to make her heart pound frantically in her chest, distract her thoughts and make her breathing shallow and her eyes cloud with desire. It amazed her that even after a whole year, he could still make the blood run hot in her veins with a quick look, or make her skin prickle and tingle with a simple touch. Tonight, it seemed to be even more pronounced, concentrated; the celebration of their anniversary adding to the heightened, electric tension between them. Both found their thoughts straying to the day, and night, of their wedding and as the fire within her continued to grow, Mary found herself quite unable to resist enticing and teasing her husband. She ate deliberately slowly, delicately eating each morsel of food, letting her tongue brush against her lips and gently running her fingers along the stem of her wine glass, looking up at Matthew when his intense gaze lingered upon her too long. In fact, Mary was having so much fun tempting her husband, she was quite surprised when desert was announced and was unable to hide the guilt and apprehension that flickered over her face. She recovered her smile quickly, but the damage was done. Matthew's eyes narrowed and he looked suspiciously between her and the butler. "Mary?"

"Happy anniversary, Matthew!" She smiled sweetly at him, though her voice wavered and was perhaps a little too enthusiastic as she glanced nervously towards the door, avoiding Matthew's penetrating gaze as she instead watched the butler return, carrying the cake.


	5. Chapter 5

Mary had to admit that Mrs Bird and herself had done a wonderful job in rescuing the cake. It looked quite splendid as Molesley brought it in; the strawberries glistening in the candlelight a perfect contrast to the rich white of the cream and icing decorating the surface. Not a spot of the burnt crust could be seen and Mary quite forgot what state it had been in earlier, her apprehension fading away to one of delight as she was sure Matthew would enjoy it immensely. She risked a look across at her husband and saw him watching her, realisation dawning in his eyes as a smile spread across his face. "I take it this is my surprise? Did you make it yourself?"

"Yes of course I baked it, Matthew, and you needn't sound quite so surprised!" Mary replied in feigned annoyance, "I'm not completely incapable of such things." Her curt look wouldn't hold though, as the smile brightening Matthew's face as he looked between her and the cake was exactly as she had pictured it earlier. He was positively beaming now, his eyes shining and his grin wide.

"She's been workin' hard on it all day, Mr Crawley," Mrs Bird added from the doorway where she had been hovering, almost as anxious as her mistress for how the cake would fair.

"Yes and it looks most splendid," Molesley praised as he carefully pushed the flowers aside to lay the cake proudly in the middle of the dining table.

"Thank you very much, my dear," Matthew said enthusiastically, standing up and reaching across towards her, kissing her gently on the cheek just how Mary had imagined. As he pulled away, he made a point of looking in her eyes and gently squeezing her hand, his gaze momentarily intense and full of promises of just how he would thank her later and Mary felt her heart suddenly jump in her chest.

In fact, Mary found it quite difficult to stop beaming as she watched her husband sit down again, eagerly looking at the beautiful cake and picking up the knife ready. The servants quickly left them alone again and Mary watched expectantly as Matthew began to cut the cake.

"What sort of cake is it, my dear?" Matthew asked, his voice innocent enough and his smile still wide.

Mary's own smile slipped slightly at the question and she felt the first prickling of nerves run through her. "Why, fruit cake of course, Matthew, your favourite."

"Ahh, of course," Matthew answered. He must have noticed the slight apprehension in her voice, for he looked up suddenly, his expression worried. "It's just that I'm not used to fruit cake being so adorned with strawberries and cream."

He smiled brighter and Mary felt her fears lift, though it was short lived, for at that very moment the knife caught in the cake and would cut no further. Another tremor of apprehension ran through her and she said, her voice a bit too terse, "I think the blade must be blunt."

"Yes, of course dear." Matthew answered hurriedly, his smile brightening too much now and repeatedly slipping slightly with worry. He swiftly looked away from her and pushed with more force upon the knife, this time succeeding in cutting through the cake. He quickly finished cutting himself a slice and Mary watched him anxiously as he dished it onto a plate.

They both looked down at the slice before them and Mary felt her spirits fall into despair. Now, the beautiful looking cake was revealed in all its wretchedness; the crater, so carefully filled with cream, was exposed, the blackened crust began to crumble and a faint smell of burning began to infiltrate the air around them. Her despondent gaze slowly rose to her husband's face and the joy and delight she had felt only a moment ago were now turned ashen and as desolate as the cake before them.

Matthew's only expression was one of barely masked alarm. He looked up and smiled at her, but it was weak and his eyes kept on shifting anxiously down at the cake before him. He sensed her worry and reached across to take her hand, giving it a consoling squeeze. "It looks delicious, Mary, thank you."

A weak smile graced Mary's features at his kindness, but it did little to alleviate her guilt and disappointment. She couldn't deny how pleased she'd been when she and Mrs Bird had finished decorating it, nor how much she'd been looking forward to pleasing her husband on their anniversary.

Matthew squeezed her hand again, smiling as he bravely picked up his fork and quickly cut a large piece. He only faltered momentarily as the fork approached his lips, his eyes suddenly shifting and his hand stilling. As he caught sight of Mary's anxious look, he quickly took a bite of the cake.

Mary's worried eyes never left Matthew's as he ate and the brief, quickly concealed look of distaste that flickered across his face as he hastily swallowed told Mary everything she needed to know. With all her hopes for a wonderful surprise and a delicious anniversary cake for her husband dashed, Mary pulled her hands away from his and crossed them despondently on the table.

Her crestfallen face made Matthew's smile widen to the point of panic as he quickly declared, "It really is delicious, Mary." As if to prove it, he quickly took another piece, although this time were was little actual cake and a large proportion of cream. He ate it quickly, barely chewing before swallowing, though the look of distaste was better hidden this time. Without saying another word, Matthew then proceeded to eat the rest of the slice, taking very small bites but eating quickly, and washing it down with rather large gulps of wine.

Mary couldn't remember a time she'd ever seen him eat so fast and with such steadfast determination. She could tell full well that the cake did indeed taste as awful as it looked, but her husband's eagerness to placate her anxieties and gratify her endeavours raised her spirits slightly. It was endearing really, her husband going to such lengths to please her, and her heart swelled with love for him. It also, however, played on her mischievous side and Mary began to wonder just how far Matthew would go in his desire to not upset her this special day.


	6. Chapter 6

_So, here's the penultimate chapter of my unashamedly fluffy and flirty story for Mary and Matthew! The final chapter will be on it's way soon and I hope you enjoy reading!_

* * *

><p>The last bite of the cake slice was eaten and Matthew sat back, his face pale as he took a large swig of wine, washing it around his mouth before swallowing. He looked up at her, smiling proudly and Mary found herself unable to resist asking, "I'm very pleased you enjoyed it so much, Matthew. Won't you have another piece?" She smiled sweetly as she reached over towards the knife.<p>

As quick as lightning, Matthew reached out his hand to still hers, quickly answering, a distinctive hint of panic in his voice, "No, thank you, Mary. I'm rather full now."

"Are you sure, Matthew?" Mary asked, pulling her hand from under his and gripping the knife. Her voice grew in sweetness as she continued, looking at him in feigned innocence. "You did seem to enjoy it so much, I'm sure you could squeeze in another piece."

When Mary began to cut into the cake again, Matthew's voice was almost desperate as he quickly answered, "No, no. I really am far too full." He seemed about to continue his excuse, when he looked up and caught sight of Mary, noticing the mischief twinkling in her eyes, her coy smile and the almost theatrical way she was beginning to slice another piece of cake. A glimmer of guilt flickered within his eyes, before they slowly narrowed and looked at her suspiciously, his lips pursing into a hard line. "Then again, Mary, maybe I'll squeeze in a piece if you have one too."

A quick blink of surprise and a slight falter of her sweet smile was all the indication Mary gave that this recent turn of events had caught her off guard. Matthew's gaze was challenging now, playful, and she couldn't help but meet it defiantly. "But I baked the cake for you, Matthew, I wouldn't want you to have to share."

Before he could respond, she quickly cut him another piece and kept her smile sickeningly sweet as she watched him wearily track its progress to his plate. The fork he was holding trembled slightly in his hand and he looked down at it in concentration and deliberation a moment, like a chess master planning his next move. He carefully cut a large piece and looked up a moment later, his eyes shining with mischief once again, "I'm sure I can spare a piece, Mary. Here, try some."

A moment later Mary found the fork hovering near her lips and she swallowed thickly. His gaze had grown intense now, leaning closer towards her to reach her mouth and a shiver ran down her spine. Automatically, she opened her mouth as he pushed the fork nearer and his eyes never left hers as he fed her the piece of cake.

At first, Mary was too surprised that her husband was actually feeding her cake, too distracted by his eyes boring into hers and the way it made her heart jump and her skin tingle. But then, gradually, the taste of the cake began to override her other senses and Mary found herself having to use every ounce of practiced elegance to not spit the thing out. To say the taste was horrid was rather an understatement, for it had to be the single most revolting thing she'd ever eaten. The burnt taste was the most overpowering, as bitter and ashen as the stinging smoke that had choked her from the oven earlier. The dried fruit was too hard and the powdery texture and taste of the flour left a lingering revulsion, which even the sweetness of the icing and strawberries could not overwhelm.

Still, Matthew was watching her carefully, his eyes never leaving hers, though her own grew a little blurry as tears started to accumulate in response to the foul taste in her mouth. His lips were barely containing a smirk and his eyes were dancing in mischief and challenge, enjoying his own revenge. Mary was determined to not give him too much satisfaction, and so carefully swallowed the foul cake and forced her own lips into a cheerful smile.

"It's delicious, isn't it Mary?" Matthew gushed, and before Mary had chance to recover from the foul taste, Matthew was holding another piece before her. "You should try some more."

Momentarily stunned, Mary opened her mouth again, her eyes watching cautiously as the cake approached, but just as the piece reached her lips, she suddenly slammed her mouth shut. When Matthew pulled the cake away in surprise, she took the opportunity to quickly grab her wine and, trying to be as ladylike as she could, downed the contents to wash away the foul taste.

To try and distract him from the piece of cake still dangling in the air before her, Mary hurriedly leant across and swirled her finger in the mass of cream on Matthew's plate. When she was certain she had his attention, she deliberately slowed her movements. Making sure his eyes were still on hers, she then carefully brought the cream to her lips and licked her fingertips clean. She smiled when she saw Matthew swallow nervously, the cake all but forgotten now. She reached across to snatch some strawberries this time, but Matthew's hand suddenly grabbed hers, stopping it inches from his plate. The movement seemed almost instinctual and the surprise on Matthew's face echoed her own. His eyes were intense now, dark and cloudy and Mary's breath caught in her throat as her heart began to pound. Gently, Matthew let go of her hand, reaching instead for a strawberry which he slowly brought to her lips. The flavour was sweet, intoxicating and as she closed her lips around it, all aftertastes of the disgusting cake were forgotten. A trail of juice ran down her jaw and she quickly licked it away, her tongue brushing against Matthew's fingers. The jolt of electricity that ran through them and the darkening of his eyes quite spurred Mary on, and she slowly, gently, licked the strawberry juice off his fingers.

When they were clean, without ever dropping her gaze, he reached back towards his plate and scooped up a large dollop of cream. As he moved his hand back towards her, Mary felt her heart pounding and her skin tingling in anticipation. The taste of the cream was delicious and she felt her eyes close at the sensations, pulling Matthew's fingers into her mouth to ensure she ate every last morsel of cream. When Matthew pulled his fingers away again, Mary kept her eyes closed, relishing the lingering taste of the cream and his fingertips. She eagerly opened her mouth for the next morsel Matthew fed her a moment later. Only it wasn't cream, nor strawberries, and as the bitter, foul taste of the cake perpetrated her senses, Mary spat it out in shock.

Matthew's laughing face greeted her as she opened her eyes and she glared at him fiercely.

"What's wrong, darling?" Matthew asked innocently, though the huge grin spilling across his face rather belittled his words. "I thought you would like some of the delicious cake."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading! The last chapter will be on it's way soon!<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_So, here's the final chapter in what I hope you've found a fun, flirty and fluffy story for Mary and Matthew._

* * *

><p>Mary continued to glare at her husband for his cruel trick as she reached eagerly for her wine glass. Finding it empty, she hastily grabbed for the canister, but Matthew was too quick and held it out of her reach. This earned him an even fiercer glower, especially when his laughter turned more boisterous. Though he kept his gaze sympathetic, he was not able to hide the teasing, playful challenge within and Mary guessed his game quickly. He still did not want to offend her, which Mary would have found endearing, had it not been for his obvious desire for her to crack and confess first. Usually Mary would have risen to the challenge, and she did hold her glare for as long as she could, but with the bitter, ashen taste of the cake filling her mouth, and unable to find any relief in the wine her husband was keeping from her, Mary felt her resolve wavering. Her glare faded altogether as Matthew's continual laughter became infectious and she felt a smile tug at her own lips. A few moments longer and Mary's laughter joined with his as they both looked at the ruined cake on the table before them. If it was possible, it looked even more wretched now she knew what it tasted like.<p>

Once the laughter had faded between them, Mary felt her earlier disappointment return and a sad sigh escaped her lips. "It truly is awful, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid I have to agree with you there, my dear." Matthew replied, passing her the wine which she poured and drank eagerly, washing the foul taste of the cake away.

She felt a sudden wave of sorrow overtake her at his honesty and she dropped her head in her hands. "Oh Matthew, I'm sorry. I did so want to make you a delicious cake."

"I know you did, Mary," Matthew replied, reaching over to take hold of her hand. When she looked up, she saw that his earlier grin had turned into a warm, comforting smile. "It's the thought that counts, anyway."

Mary smiled sadly at her husband and his efforts to please her, "Even when it's as much of a disaster as this?"

"Of course, my dear," Matthew replied, squeezing her hand and leaning closer. "And besides, it's not too much of a disaster." Scooping up more cream in his fingers, he leant across to Mary and once more pressed his fingertips to her lips.

Mary eagerly licked the rich cream from his fingers, holding his gaze and being careful this time to not close her eyes. When no trace remained, Matthew pulled his hand away, but scooted closer towards her, moving the chair around the table. Leaning his face in towards her, his elbows resting on the table, he said playfully, "Though I do wonder how much of the cake you would have made me eat!"

"I didn't force you to eat one bite, Matthew, though the same cannot be said for you." She leant in closer, so their faces were nearly touching. "It was a cruel trick to play, making me eat the cake like that."

Matthew looked suitably abashed, though Mary was not fooled for she saw the humour dancing in his eyes. "I'm sorry dear, but I couldn't resist seeing how you'd react." He leant closer still, so his next words were spoken against her cheek, his voice teasing, but low, deepening in its intensity, "And you did rather deserve it."

Mary pulled away suddenly, sitting back in her chair, a look of righteous indignation crossing her features. "It's your own fault you ate so much, Matthew."

"But what was I to do, Mary? I'd wager you wouldn't be so pleased if I had told you outright how disagreeable it was." He leant closer towards her again, reaching out to take hold of one of her hands, which she'd clenched tightly in her lap.

Mary tried to glower at him, but it was rather hard to stay annoyed when he was gently running his fingertips across hers, and when he was looking at her so delightfully, leaning in closer. And she had to admit there was a certain amount of logic within his words. And so she couldn't help leaning in towards him slightly, her voice holding far less vexation than she intended, "Of course not, and your effort was most endearing. But that does not make you exempt from teasing."

"Then I shall be forced to retaliate by teasing you for making the thing!"

"But then, my dear Matthew, you are in danger of upsetting my female sensibilities and making me unhappy."

"Well, I must ensure that doesn't happen." Before Mary could reply with her own teasing retort, he closed the gap between them and pressed his lips softly against hers. They tasted of cream and strawberries, the faint trace of burnt cake lost in the richness of the red wine he'd so recently drunk. Mary responded to the kiss immediately, the heat within her blood, which had been simmering all night, suddenly boiling to the surface. She laced her hands around his neck, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss, opening her mouth to his. A small sigh escaped her lips as his sticky fingers reached into her hair, gently tugging at the locks and sending shivers down her spine.

Matthew pulled away a few moments later, too soon for Mary and her lips followed his as he pulled away. It was a few seconds before she opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her, her arms still wrapped around his neck. "I trust your feelings are no longer hurt by my honesty, Mary."

Mary smiled at him coyly, "Well, they're not quite as depressed as they were, my dear."

"Good," Matthew replied, before pulling back from her further, slipping out of her arms. "Because I hate to say it, Mary, but you are rather in my debt."

"Your debt?" Mary repeated in surprise.

"Well yes. I buy you beautiful flowers for our anniversary and yet you happily watch me suffer by eating your cake!"

Mary was about to say something in her defence, her feelings momentarily stung by Matthew's words. But then she saw his eyes dancing flirtatiously and a smirk threatening to break out across his lips. Instead, she lowered her head, looking up at him endearingly through her lashes. "I'm sorry my dear, I was rather cruel, all things considered."

"Yes you were," Matthew replied, leaning closer to her again and gently slipping his hands around her waist. "But I'm sure you can make it up to me."

"I hope so, my dear." Mary teased, trembling slightly as his fingertips gently moved upwards, brushing across her neck before tilting her face up towards his.

"I'm sure you can think of something," Matthew whispered against her lips, his voice low now, heavy, seductive as he closed the space between them and kissed her once more.

"Just promise me one thing, Mary," Matthew asked as he pulled away enough to speak, his breath tickling her lips, "don't try to bake me another cake."

"Maybe, but I won't promise you," Mary replied, smiling as Matthew narrowed his eyes at her cheekiness, before covering her lips once more with his.

Mary smiled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him again and pulling him closer. As the kiss deepened and Matthew gently ran his fingers down her back, Mary couldn't help but think that perhaps the cake hadn't been such a disaster. After all, it is the thought that counts.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!<em>


End file.
